When the day's labors are over, and he sits in slippered ease
'by his own fireside,' what greater enjoyment can he have than to
abandon himself in true Barmecidal fashion to the tempting dainties
which the last page of the supplement to the _Times_ offers to his keen
appetite! How he revels in the luscious descriptions of 'noble parks,'
'swelling lawns,' 'ancestral woods,' 'silver lakes,' and 'endless
panoramas of scenery unequalled in the world'! How proudly he lingers
over the pictures of 'baronial castles,' and 'time-honored manorial
residences, indissolubly linked with the proudest names and proudest
deeds of England's history'! If he be a sportsman--and what Englishman
is not, more or less?--how intoxicating to him is the enumeration of
'game of all sorts, and countless myriads of wild fowl,' only waiting
his advent to fall victims to his prowess! If he be a philanthropist,
what visions of model farms, model cottages and model schools, of a
happy and contented peasantry, of comely, smiling matrons, and troops of
ruddy-cheeked children may he not conjure up! If he be ambitious, what
dreams of greatness crowd upon him--the revered benefactor of the
parish, the respected chairman of the bench of magistrates, nay, even
the county member returned to Parliament without a dis-sentient voice!
His fancy runs riot, and there is no limit to the bright future which
the skilful hand of the cunning knight of the hammer unfolds before his
enraptured gaze.
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